Blast from the Past
by msgenevieve447
Summary: There's someone else who needs to see the treasures from Emma's past.


He's dozing on the couch when he hears the sound of Emma's key in the lock. By the time he sits up and manages to find the television remote and press _off _(in his defence, that ridiculous reality program hadn't started when he'd closed his eyes), his daughter is shutting the front door behind Killian Jones, who is carrying a large cardboard box.

David blinks, taking in the box-carrying ex-pirate and his daughter's red-rimmed eyes, then scrambles to his feet. "Hey, everything okay?"

Emma and Killian share a quick, almost conspiratorial glance. "That depends on your definition of _okay_, mate," the other man drawls as he puts the box down on the wooden kitchen table. "We've made some progress as to the identity of the Snow Queen, but it's only raised more questions, I'm afraid." He puts his hand on Emma's shoulder as he speaks, and David sees his daughter lean into the touch, as if instinctively seeking comfort.

He looks away, feeling as though he's suddenly seen a far more intimate moment, focusing instead on the cardboard box. "Are these more old records?"

"Kind of." Emma's voice sounds scratchy and tired. "It's my stuff." She glances up, meeting his eyes for the first time. "You know, bits and pieces I've carried around with me for years."

His heart clenches. It's been an emotional evening already, and standing in front of him is the living, breathing embodiment of why Snow has found it so hard to let Neal out of her sight. Giving his daughter a reassuring smile, he steps closer, watching as she pulls the lid off the box. "What did you find?"

"You know how I kept saying that she knew me?" Emma slips one hand into the box, pushing aside a white blanket to retrieve a small handheld camcorder. "Well, now I know how."

He knows what Emma is about to show him is beyond important, but David finds himself staring at the blanket in the box. It's snow white, with purple ribbons. Purple for royalty. "Is that-?" As if in a dream, he reaches out his hand, touching the soft knitted garment with his fingertips.

_Oh, God, it is._

The last time he'd touched this blanket, it had been wrapped around his newborn daughter as he'd placed her in Geppetto's enchanted wardrobe. It's still as white and soft as the day it had been presented to them by Granny, as if it too had been frozen in time, and he can feel his eyes start to prickle with the threat of tears. "I didn't know you still had this."

Emma has moved to the television, picking up the remote and flicking the power back on. "What?" She looks at the blanket he's still touching, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. "Oh, yeah. I showed it to Mary Margaret once, but that was before the curse was broken."

David pulls the blanket out of the box, placing it carefully on the table, earning himself a nod of approval from Hook. "Call me crazy, but I have the feeling she'd like to see it again, if that's okay?"

"Sure." Emma smiles, but it doesn't mask the anxiety in her eyes. "There's something else you guys have to see first, though."

"What do I have to see first?" Snow flashes him a worried glance as she emerges from their bedroom, then looks at her daughter. "If this is about your escaped prisoner, Emma, I can explain."

David does his best to hide his grin, very glad he'd thought to text Emma a short time ago to let her know the whole Will Scarlett vs. Snow White story. Emma waves away her mother's concerns, giving Snow a weary smile. "It's okay, he'll turn up again." She darts a quick glance at Killian, who is uncharacteristically silent. "Those irritating types always do."

Again, they share a complicit smile, and David's heart twinges once more, this time for a very different reason. The feel of Emma's baby blanket is literally still warming his palm, but he knows love when he sees it. His questioning of Hook's intentions towards his daughter has never seemed more redundant and, looking at his daughter's face as she smiles at the other man, it seems pretty damned clear he doesn't need to ponder _her_ intentions either.

_Damn it._

It's not that he doesn't approve (okay, maybe there's still a hint of disapproval running through his fatherly veins), but this is _definitely _going to take some getting used to.

Oblivious to his silent internal struggle, Emma connects the camcorder to the back of their VCR, muttering something under her breath about out-of-date technology, then looks at David and Snow in turn. "Just don't freak out, okay?" She hits play, and the Snow Queen's face fills the screen. Over her shoulder, a blonde teenaged girl with an achingly familiar face can be seen. "Apparently, my memory isn't as good as I thought it was."

As David stares at the screen at the face of the woman they've come to know as the Snow Queen, he hears his wife's shocked gasp. "Oh, my God. It's _her_." He tears his gaze away from the television in time to see Snow crossing the room to put her hand on Emma's arm. "She was one of your foster mothers?"

Emma's reply is flat. "Yep."

David's own hands are clenching by his sides. His baby girl, in the care of_that_ woman. "And you don't remember her at all?"

"No." Emma presses a button on the remote, and the screen goes dark again. "Looks like Elsa's not the only one whose memories of our local ice witch have been messed with." She looks at Killian, who literally snaps to attention on the strength of that single glance. "Hey, can you grab those photos?"

Killian is quick to do her bidding, and David has to admit, he's impressed. _Definitely her mother's daughter_, he muses, then catches his wife's eye. From Snow's soft smile, he has the feeling she's thinking exactly the same thing. As Emma and Killian talk softly over a packet of photographs (he seems to be reassuring her, another point in his favour), David smiles at his wife, mouthing a silent _I love you. _Her whole face lights up, and he feels an answering warmth glow deep in his chest. They've been sharing a heart since the moment they met, in one way or another, and now that both their children are under the same roof, it finally feels as all the missing pieces have been put back together.

It's a brief moment of reflection, because the next hour is filled with photographs and theories and Emma bringing them up to speed with her latest encounter with the Snow Queen. At one point he gets to his feet, intent on putting on his coat and going to punch Sidney Glass in the nose (for the creepy photos of Emma as much as his switching sides), and it's only when Emma points out that it's pretty hard to punch someone in the nose when they're trapped in a mirror that he sits back down.

He won't forget, though.

Somewhere along the line, Snow makes tea (a liberal dash of rum is added to the cups of those wishing for something stronger, courtesy of the Captain's flask), and by the time the tea pot is empty, weariness has settled over their little group that has nothing to do with the lateness of the hour.

That said, it's almost midnight when Killian pushes back his chair with a scrape and gets to his feet. "I'll let you all get to your beds," he says quietly. "No doubt tomorrow will be another busy day." He bows to Snow, nods to David, then puts a gentle hand on Emma's shoulder. "Perhaps your parents would like to see the beginning of the tape as well, love."

Emma looks up at him with so much emotion glittering in her eyes that once again David feels like he's intruding. Beside him, he can sense Snow holding her breath. When Emma finally smiles, a tender curving of her mouth, David literally feels the tension in the room seep away. "I'll walk you out."

She's gone for almost ten minutes (he later denies Snow's accusation that he timed it), and when she returns to the apartment, her cheeks are flushed, her ponytail tousled, her eyes bright despite the fact she's obviously exhausted. Picking up the remote once more, she gives them both a smile that's bordering on bashful, and all David's teasing words about pirates stealing goodnight kisses stick in his throat. "So, yeah, like Killian said, there's something else on here you might want to see."

A moment later, he's looking at the smiling face of a teenaged Emma, a young girl who is happy and laughing, and he feels as though he's just been given the most precious of gifts. It's a window into the past he'd long thought stolen from them, and Snow's hand tightly grips his as his vision blurs with tears.

When he heads to bed a short time later (he wants to give them some time alone, something they both sorely need) his wife and daughter are sitting together on the couch, the small box of Emma's treasures sitting open between them on the coffee table, and he knows without looking that Emma's baby blanket is draped over Snow's lap.

When his wife eventually comes to bed, she slips under the covers and immediately wraps herself around him. She buries her face against his bare shoulder, and he feels the dampness on her cheek. "You okay?"

She sniffs loudly, but when she speaks, he can hear the smile in her voice. "Our daughter was a beautiful girl."

David kisses her on the temple. "She still is."

She's silent for a slow heartbeat, then she sighs, her voice small in the darkness. "We're going to win this one, aren't we?"

He swallows hard before answering. There's a difference between false hope and optimism, but tonight, there's no room for doubting themselves. "Yes, we are." Bending his head, he finds her mouth with his, letting his lips linger with a quiet hum of pleasure. In another life, after an adventure like they'd just had, they would have ended up falling into bed in quite a different fashion. Unfortunately, that particular way of celebrating a victory isn't exactly unsuitable for an apartment with thin walls and an adult daughter sleeping upstairs. "Now go to sleep before _he_ wakes up again."

She laughs at that, the lilting sound dancing over his skin, her leg insinuating itself between his. "Nice try, mister, but I've decided it's finally your turn."

David grins, pleased that she can't see his smug expression. "If you insist," he teases, and earns himself a gentle kick to the shinbone. Any other new father might not be ecstatic at the thought of having to get up every two hours for the rest of the night, but he couldn't be happier. After all, it's always good when a plan comes together.

He wraps his arms around his wife (she's already half-asleep), closing his eyes as he remembers the smiling face of the Emma he'd never known until tonight. The pirate was no doubt right in predicting that tomorrow is going to be another busy day, but tonight, David's heart is full.


End file.
